


Captain Hook

by cerulean_sin (am_bellanoire)



Series: The Captain and Her First Mate (Huma One-Shots) [9]
Category: Descendants (Disney Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Harry's POV, Post-Descendants 3, Smut, descriptions of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:20:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23872252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/am_bellanoire/pseuds/cerulean_sin
Summary: “Easy now,” she croons, breaking the kiss with a gasp, her pupils blown, “Easy. We've got all night, captain.”You freeze. It literally feels as if the blood in your veins has gone solid. Your heart stops beating, the organ tripping over itself as that word, that blasphemous title spills from her mouth.”D-don't call me that,” it takes you two tries to say.“But that's what you are. Oh, wait.,” she giggles and the sound of her amusement is the same as it's always been. Equal parts mirth and malice. But there's an odd warmth to it too that you've never heard before, like a ray of sunlight has been threaded through it with a fine needle, “You didn't know? With your daddy dead you're Harry James Hook, Captain of the Jolly Roger."
Relationships: Harry Hook/Uma
Series: The Captain and Her First Mate (Huma One-Shots) [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1471586
Comments: 6
Kudos: 66





	Captain Hook

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lollypop21](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lollypop21/gifts).



> Lollypop21, I had to gift this work to you. I know we do the whole Umvie and Audruma thing but...honestly thank you for checking on me. Thank you for being concerned about my well being and whether or not I was good. That means so much than just exchanging story reviews. I had to gift this work to you. Without you, it would have never been written. I miss you too and I see you have new work and finished Thousand Years and I cant wait to give them all the love they deserve. 
> 
> Also thank Megan Thee Stallion's song 'Captain Hook' for the title and the inspiration if only because of the sword sound effects in the instrumental.

“Come lay with me,” she calls and you come. Slowly at first and then your steps quicken until you are by her side where you belong. Where you've always belonged. She threads her mahogany fingers through your hair and you melt into a puddle against her, like ice under the heat of the sun, because you can't help it. You will always melt under her touch. 

You settle your loosened limbs onto the bed beside her. The bed, it's soft. Softer than anything you've ever touched back home on the Isle. Softer than anything you've ever touched in Auradon, honestly. Not as soft as her hair though, not as pleasant beneath your hands. Never that. Nothing could compare to those silken teal tresses, not even the goose down feathers and cloud-like pillows and you press your nose into the crook of her neck and shoulder, breathing in deeply. Her warmth is like the sea, familiar and deliciously salty. 

“You've been away from me too long,” she says, the words husky and low, shooting fiery heat below your waist, “I been missing you.”

“Been missing ye too, darling,” you respond, nuzzling your face deeper against the column of her throat, her pulse point against your lips, inhaling her scent. Sweet coconut and brackish waters. “Ye told me to go, though,” you dare to mention. It isn't a question, but it might as well be because part of you is angry, bitter, confused. Hurt. You've always fought by her side . Always. You would kill, bleed, die for her. You don't understand why she would cast you aside like a damaged vessel among her fleet, send you away for one of the biggest battles of her life. When Captain James Hook had invaded Auradon, set to pillage and take advantage of the barrier fall with a crew of five and twenty and all the hatred for _goodness_ that came with being a villain, you were prepared to fight the same way you had been with the other villains that had tried their hand at making King Beast and his progeny pay.

But despite all of that, she's still your captain. One thing that you've learned from your father other than the effects of alcohol on an already addled brain is that the first mate never questions the captain. You've stood witness to many a lashing Mr Smee got for his cheek. Mutiny, it would be had the offense been committed by anyone else on the crew. 

“You think I sent you away because I wanted to?” she turns to face you, propping herself up on an elbow and the palm of her hand. Her face is unreadable but her tone is hard and you quietly thank your ability to keep a cool facade because the heat in her tone makes you want to wince and retreat from an inevitable burn, “That's what you think? I'd rather gut my own self than do that. I felt like I'd eaten rotten cod. Sick. _Weak_ ,” the word is growled, low and angry, spat out like said cod might have been, “I could barely _function_ without you, Harry. Three days might have felt like three years.” 

You search for and find every bold bone in your body to dare and ask, “So why'd ye do it then?”

“Because I didn't want to see the look on your face when I slit your father's throat,” the words are deadpanned. Her expression empty. The heat gone and replaced by a coldness that would have made you shudder had you been made of Auradonian stock. 

“I hated the bastard,” you chuckle, trying to cut the tension with humor. There is no feeling of remorse or grief for it either even knowing that the man who had sired you is dead. All you want to do is appease her, bring her back to you from whatever riptide of loathing she's caught in, “Ye know that. I'm glad he's dead, I'm glad ye were the one to kill him.”

The fact that she is the one to avenge you makes your blood hot, particularly around the middle. To you there is nothing more appealing, nothing more beautiful than seeing your sea goddess poised above the enemy with a blade coated in blood. Laughing in triumph, the cheers of the crew in the background, your heart pounding in your ears as your own war cry rings out. 

“Without him there would be no you and me," there is no blood lust in her tone now, but there is pain, a thickness that is the precursor to weeping, and it makes your chest clench automatically, “Yeah. I didn't want you to see that. Same way I wish I hadn't seen my mother die.”

And at the time you can't understand her anguish. But you hold her anyway. Cradle her to you, wiping briny tears from her eyes with your mouth, whisper endearments and words of consolation in your native tongue against the shell of her ear all the while confused as to why she is so upset over the demise of Ursula, the Sea Witch you knew she despised more than anything. 

“It still hurt and I wasn't expecting it to,” she responds with a soft sniffle, as if reading your thoughts, “It felt like someone had taken a knife and skinned me alive with it. She was still my mother. I hated her, yeah, with everything in me. But, she was still my _mother_. And I wanted to protect you from that feeling. It doesn't go away. Let you be glad he's gone. Let you be glad. But I don't want you to feel what I feel. Ever.”

“I'd gladly feel it with ye, darling,” you say and there's an edge to your words because you're angry again but not angry that you've been deprived of last words with the man who called himself your father, the anger is that she's deprived you of feeling the pain she feels, the pain that has taken her so long to admit to. You feel, for the first time, you're unworthy of her regard _because_ you don't know what she feels and you can never know. Your own mother wasn't executed. Your own mother died before you had a chance to know her and the feelings you feel for the woman who bore you is longing to have known her, not pain. The fact that Uma feels _pain_ can never sit right with you and you hate that she has taken the chance to share that with her away from you.

"I gave the order to execute her. I gave the order, Harry. Me. They would've have locked her up, you know Auradonians. Righteous to the point of sickening. But they are ruthless in here,” she taps her chest with her fist and then taps yours, “They're the same people who stood idle when kids starved on an Isle, held prisoner. Kids who didn't do _anything_. Who weren't guilty of _anything_ but being born. So they jumped at it. Didn't even try to change my mind. They jumped at that shit. And I watched them tie my mother up, tentacle by fucking tentacle to their boats and rip her apart. And the crowd behind me, they cheered. Those heroes, they really are worse than us. Be glad I was the one to do your father in. Not them. But I couldn't stand you seeing me when I did it.” 

“I've seen ye kill,” you try to counter even though your innards churn and twist at the description of the Sea Witch's end. You've seen your fair share of death, you've participated in your fair share. But you remember those purple tentacles that used to snap from the kitchen into the bar of the chip shop on the Isle with a level of fondness Yeah you ducked and dodged like everyone else but there was a familiarity to it. Even the bruises Uma used to bear when she'd been too slow to duck and dodge; when she got her speed, the two of you would laugh about it well into the sludge stained night in the crow's nest of the Lost Revenge.The ever present dark cloud blocking out the moon and the stars you both somehow knew were there. Right. Familiarity. Home. 

And you know now, you understand why she chose to shield you from seeing your father's death and the words you would have uttered next crumble to sand on your tongue. 

She senses this and the pad of her thumb passes slowly against your jawline. But her eyes, those twin dark depths you could happily drown in, are hard. Her grip tightens and a sound of discomfort escapes your throat. “You've seen me defend myself, you've seen me defend my crew, defend my ship. You've seen me protect what's mine and save a few unfortunate souls from starving or freezing to death. In all those cases it was either me or them. In this case there was no me or them. There was only them and that them happened to be the only reason you're laying beside me right now.” 

Her grip loosens and you suck in a shuddering breath as the weight of her words settle. “It might have been selfishness on my part too.” The look in her eyes soften as she meets your widened one. “Maybe, more than likely it was. It was the last thing I'd ever do as your captain and I wanted to savor the moment by myself.” 

You choke on air like a fresh catch reeled in by a good lure, rod, and seaworthy fisherman. She's letting you go. You can't breathe. She cannot do this. Words fail you. She cannot be casting you away. You would not survive it. You can't. You would be nothing without her. And she knows this. So why? Why would she - 

Her lips crash onto yours and instead of tepid, stagnant air, you're drowning in her taste. You give yourself into it with a strangled sound that's equal parts rapture and agony. She's saying goodbye to you and you cannot bear it but if it _is_ goodbye, you want – no you _need_ – it to last for eternity. If this is goodbye, a dismissal, a resignation then you will end as soon as it ends. The kiss deepens, you're not sure when or how or who deepens it, but it's you who attacks her mouth with teeth and tongue. You drink her in, inhale her as if she's your final breath because to die right now would be better than never seeing her again. 

“Easy now,” she croons, breaking the kiss with a gasp, her pupils blown, “Easy. We've got all night, captain.”

You freeze. It literally feels as if the blood in your veins has gone solid. Your heart stops beating, the organ tripping over itself as that word, that blasphemous title spills from her mouth. 

”D-don't call me that,” it takes you two tries to say. 

“But that's what you are. Oh, wait.,” she giggles and the sound of her amusement is the same as it's always been. Equal parts mirth and malice. But there's an odd warmth to it too that you've never heard before, like a ray of sunlight has been threaded through it with a fine needle, “You didn't know? With your daddy dead you're Harry James Hook, Captain of the Jolly Roger. Bro, you're the _real_ pirate and I had to tell you that?” 

The news goes over your head as you still try to press your body closer to hers. You're aching now, the kiss combined with the sound of her laughter and the relief that you aren't being sacked igniting fire below your navel, flames licking your spine and all you want to do is consume her. But she's put enough space between you two that you can't do that, not without physically pulling her to you. And she hasn't yet invited you to do so. She lays one of her legs across you, her shapely thigh resting over your torso and you can't hold back a shudder, resisting the urge.

“Did you hear me, Harry?” she asks and you nod despite the fact that the statement makes no sense, not when your attention is focused on the copper undertones of her bared skin. She leans forward and you can feel her warm breath against your ear as she takes the lobe between her teeth and bites down hard enough to make you hiss. “The Jolly Roger. It's yours. Hook's crew? They're yours, what's left of them anyway. Smee? He's yours. The twins, yours if you want them.”

"Mine?” You whisper on a groan, the blue of your eye trained on the subtle rolling of her hips, the imprint beneath her chest her heart makes with each beat, “Like how yer mine?” 

“Just so,” she murmurs and _gods_ you love when her voice takes on that tone, that throaty, begging to be satisfied tone. And you groan because you love when she admits to being yours. You know you're hers and she's possessive as anything. She holds fast to her belongings. The whole world knows you belong to her. But it does something to you when she acknowledges that she belongs to you as well. 

The change in her tone and the two words she speaks are permission enough to touch her now. And you do. You shift on the bed so that she is under you, gazing up at you, fathomless chocolate pools meeting the blue of the sea and you watch the many expressions that always flit across her face when she's in this particular position. The way her breath hitches in her throat. You're the only person in the world who's ever seen this degree of nakedness, of vulnerability from her and you _relish_ the fact. You brace your weight on one elbow and brush battled weathered knuckles gently along her cheek, a toothy smile tugging at the corners of your lips as she leans into your touch, her lashes fluttering, erasing the fleeting look of fear caused by her fight or flight response. She grabs you by your hair and yanks you to her, kissing you hard enough to bruise, the blunt edges of her teeth nipping at your bottom lip and you make a dark noise of pleasure in your throat.

She undresses you, her hands like claws, ripping away at the fabric of your vest and leathers without breaking the kiss and you busy your own fingers with caressing her, reacquainting your sense of touch with the familiarity of her skin, both the smoothness and the jagged edges of her scars. You have to adjust, twist and torque your body to be fully unclothed but that's okay. With the way she's revved you up, the clothes felt like ropes tied too tightly and you breathe easier when cool air from the open window washes over flushed ivory. You miss the tinge of salt the sea air would bring but it's a relief anyway. You rid her of her undergarments and loose her stays, your fingers passing through the threads with a precision that only you know. 

“How do ye want me, love?” you whisper against her lips and you can feel her smile as her nails sink into your flesh, the sharpness, the slight pain spurring you. 

“I want you to fuck me, Captain Hook.” 

You know that's your new title now, with your father dead but to hear her call her that? You almost come. Her tone, the way her tongue wraps around the words. You want to fall apart. 

“Say that again,” you order, demand, beg. Because you need to hear it again, once more. Twice. Forever. You nudge her legs apart with you knees, the head of your cock brushing against her moistened folds and verily she _purrs_. 

“Captain Hook.” She spreads her thighs further, her waistline unfurling, hips bucking upward to meet your length.. 

And you deliver. Because you can never deny her whatever she wants no matter the role you may be playing now. You bury yourself to the hilt in a strong thrust that leaves you both gasping as you're surrounded by her tight, wet heat and she adjusts around you. You still, waiting for her breathing to even out, loving the way her nails threaten to break through the skin of your back, threaten to cause blood to flow, threaten to expose muscle and the bones of your spine. You let her hold you, knowing that the first stroke is always the deepest especially when she's underneath you. She doesn't like to be fucked this way, never has. But when she does do this like this, you know it's only for you. She could never be this open, could never surrender to anyone but you. Even before she made you the captain of your own vessel. 

You're her first and she's your last. Ever always. 

You won't last long. 

“I'm good,” she huffs on a broken breath, her voice pitched high enough to rival birdsong, “I'm good,” she repeats, stalwart, and you feel her relax, her body submitting, welcoming you home, “Now fuck me.” 

You don't need to hear anything else. You grab her around the thighs, pulling and shifting her body forward, pulling her deeper and she cries out as you brush the spot you know will flood her. 

You can feel that heady sensation, her calling you what she's calling you, accepting the death of your father, accepting that you and her are now _equals_ even as you chase release. Your balls tighten and your cock throbs all the while her sheath takes. Her moans fill the room. Soft and airy now because she can no longer keep her voice sultry and low, not when you're hitting that sweet spot within her with sharp precision. You know it too well. Because you can't come until she does. 

Your groans and hisses and panting now match the fervor, the passion of her own. Het nails are drawing lines of red against your pale skin, her teeth pressing indents into your flesh as she orders, no begs, no _asks_ you not to stop. And you won't. You can't. You don't _want_ to. 

_"Gods,”_ she whimpers as she comes and you can feel the flutter and pulse of her core, squeezing you, milking you, pulling the very soul from your body. You follow her over the edge, tumbling with a series of choked sounds as the stuttered declaration of 'captain' breaks her vocal cords. 

______It's the first time since your first time together that you haven't uttered her name like a prayer on climax. And you don't know how to feel, even as the sweat dries from your skin and you struggle to fill your lungs and you hold her to you as if she is the only thing separating you from life and death._ _ _ _ _ _

______Time passes and your vision clears. Your pulse beats at a normal cadence and your nether regions are limp and satisfied. She is curled beside you, her teal tresses damp and frizzled but covering the important bits. She looks so soft, precious as a chest full of diamonds, rubies, emeralds. Anything a pirate could want, pillage, plunder, kill for. An anchor of protectiveness drops and shatters your heart._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Let this be the only time ye call me that, darling,” your voice is nary but a rasp, your brogue thick against the sweat cooled softness of her mahogany cheek._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Why?” she volleys back, eyes still closed but tone very much lucid, somewhat sad, “I can't be your captain if you're a captain of your own ship. It wouldn't be right.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Your thoughts drift back to earlier, the desolation you felt at the thought of her throwing you away and you realize the pain you heard in her words was a pain felt because she believed you would cast her aside once you learned of your birthright. You almost get angry all over again, but you can't._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Ye'll always be me captain,” you vow, and the oath is strong, because nothing is more binding than a pirate's oath. But also hoping the love that bleeds through is enough, “That's who ye are to me. Always. Ye hear me, Uma? I want things to be like they've always been.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______She sighs, the sound soft and almost incoherent, And then she opens her eyes, allowing her gaze to rove all over you, drinking you in like someone dying of thirst and a part of you preens a bit under her regard weighted as it is. She _admires_ what's hers in the same way you worship what is yours. You meet full circle here. And then her expression changes to one of mischief, her perfect, dusky rose lips parting to reveal a sharp smile of wickedness and your body reacts even as your chest expands to make room for another reason why you love her._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Is that an order, captain?” she teases, playful of tone even as her mouth finds the spot somewhere against your throat that could kill you if slit but you arch to expose to only her. With a grunt and a clever hooking of your lower limbs behind her calves, you reverse the position. She does yelp, a noise you'll deny hearing as ardently as she'll deny making it, but you both smile. You from beneath and she from above. Where she belongs in your mind._ _ _ _ _ _

______She surges forward like the tide, a wave hitting the sand to press a kiss to your waiting mouth and against her lips you murmur, “Aye, captain.”_ _ _ _ _ _

**Author's Note:**

> To everyone else....
> 
> Being in a big city during the Covid-19 outbreak has been difficult. I was diagnosed with an autoimmune disease over a year ago and have since and currently still take medication that suppresses my immune system to keep it under control. So, yeah, when you're legit afraid and anxious....it's hard to find motivation to write. 
> 
> This is the first thing I've written to completion in months. Please take it for what it is. No, I haven't abandoned my WIPS, yes I'm still working on them but this just so happened to be completed first. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, as always, and please stay safe. Feedback would be greatly appreciated.


End file.
